


The Sixth Grade

by literaryempress



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Elementary School, Friendship, Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-02
Updated: 2015-08-02
Packaged: 2018-04-12 12:00:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,033
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4478561
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/literaryempress/pseuds/literaryempress
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ian never expected to make a friend out of the new student in his sixth grade class, but he did.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Sixth Grade

Ian and Mickey have been friends since elementary school. For Ian specifically, it wasn’t really a very good experience, being that not a lot of people wanted to come his way and ask him to join them in an art project or a game of tag on the playground. Ian was always the last one to get picked on someone’s team in gym class, and he didn’t have anyone to sit next to at lunch.

Well, that is, until the sixth grade hit.

Mickey had transferred into Ian’s elementary school around the middle of October. When people started to take notice of his behavior and mannerisms – the way he walked down the hall, the look he gave other people who were staring him down, the way he shoved people out of the way when they walked too slow – the rumors started to fly left and right.

Some kids believed he burned down a house before he got sent here. Others believed that he was the son of a mob member who took his family’s business over to Chicago where he wouldn’t be identified by the government.

And, of course, they were all wrong, but they were too stupid to understand the real truth about anything.

The first time Mickey and Ian interacted, they were assigned to do a project for Math, probably Ian’s hardest subject. If you asked him, he would most likely be the one that would just color random things on the project or add in the decorative touches so it would at least look nice. If you asked him to teach the class about long division, then he would not be available for your time.

Mickey, however, was some sort of genius. Ever since he transferred here, he always got straight A’s in his mathematics class. But don’t ask him to tutor anyone, because he didn’t like to gather the attention of other students in his class. Sure, he was smart enough to understand some of the material, but he wasn’t a people person.

That was the one reason why he didn’t want to do this project in the first place: he didn’t want to work with anyone else. He was better off doing the whole damn thing by himself.

Ian, on the other hand, thought otherwise. He knew nothing about Mickey and actually thought he was a little interesting to say the least. For some reason, Ian didn’t find Mickey as intimidating as everyone else thought he was. Sure, he was always getting in trouble for picking a fight with someone in the hallway, and Ian wanted to avoid any and all opportunities for violence, but Ian saw something else in Mickey that he couldn’t put a finger on.

Speaking of fingers, when Mickey came over to Ian’s table to start looking at the project instructions, Ian took a moment to recognize Mickey’s tiny fingers. They all had one letter inked on each one, and they were meant to say FUCK U-UP when Mickey balled his hands into fists. Ian never thought that eleven-year-olds could get tattoos, much less ones with profanity on them, but he thought that was what made Mickey so cool (and okay, intimidating) to everyone.

Ian must have been looking at Mickey’s fingers for too long, because the boy in question was glaring back at him with an eyebrow raised almost to his hair line. “Is there a problem?” he asked, ultimately making Ian shake out of his daze.

“Oh, no, um…” Ian stuttered, and he really wished he hadn’t. It only made him a tad tinier in comparison to Mickey, although in reality, Mickey was smaller than him. “I’m sorry, I – I just like your tattoos.”

Mickey was silent for a moment, and that, to Ian, usually felt as if he had done something wrong, like he wasn’t supposed to step over some line in a conversation or something. All of his worry seemed to wash over him when Mickey began to speak again. “They’re not real. It’s pen.”

Ian did a double take of Mickey’s tiny fingers. They looked real, according to Ian. Then again, there was a little part of the C where it looked as if Mickey went outside the lines. Other than that, Ian was surprised. Mickey looked like a great tattoo artist, even if he was only in the sixth grade.

They sat like that for about a few minutes. Ian was busy craning his neck over Mickey’s shoulder so he could see what he was doing with the project they were supposed to be working on. His neck got a little tired after forty seconds. He wanted to help with something, despite his lack for understanding Math in general, but Mickey wasn’t letting him do anything.

So Ian just retreated to pulling out his composition notebook and drew some random doodles in there to keep him busy. He wasn’t sure how Mickey even noticed that he was focused on something else, but when the silence was broken once again, Ian almost jumped out of his seat. “Whatcha got there?” Mickey asked casually.

Ian, as if out of impulse, closed the book and placed it to the side. “N-nothing.” Fuck, he was stuttering again. “Nothing. Let’s back to work.”

Mickey stared back at him as if Ian was probably the most stupidest person in the world or something. “Let’s be honest here, Gallagher.” It was a surprise that Mickey actually remembered Ian’s last name, but he did. “You and I both know that we’re not interested in this stupid project. You’re too dumb to put two and two together when it comes to fractions, and my level of excitement is as low as the earth’s fucking core.”

And Ian wasn’t sure why, but…he laughed. He laughed because Mickey was right; neither one of them were really invested in the project at all – well, Ian knew he wasn’t; then again, from the look on Mickey’s face, he looked bored with the damn thing himself, despite how much he knew how to do.

And okay, Ian thought Mickey definitely had some kind of sense of humor, too. Maybe that’s what triggered it.

“The hell’s so funny?” Mickey asked, scrunching up his face at Ian.

Ian tried to straighten his face back to normal, but the grin kept fighting to grow even larger. “It’s – nah, it’s nothing, man.” When Ian stopped laughing, he shyly looked back at Mickey. He kept his head hung, but Ian could tell that Mickey was smirking with some kind of interest in him. Ian must have done something right…

Whatever the hell it was.

* * *

The project wasn’t due for another couple of days. Ian wasn’t really focused on the project much; he was actually more focused on Mickey. It had been that way for almost half of the day, and for some reason, Ian was unable to stop himself from thinking about him.

He was still stuck on the moment when his eyes fell upon the hand-drawn tattoos on his fingers. How was he able to get all of the letters on both hands by himself? Did he know how to use both of his hands? Is that what that was? Ian couldn’t ever do that; his handwriting is barely legible with the hand he’s used to writing with.

“Gallagher.” Ian heard his surname down the hall as he was going in his locker to grab his lunch. Mickey already had his in handy, leaning against the set of lockers beside Ian’s as he waited for him to finish up. Mickey started to speak up lowly when Ian glanced over at him. “You’re eating with me. Come on.”

That came so unexpectedly. Mickey Milkovich, the guy who shoved people into lockers and such, wanted to eat lunch with Ian, the boy who struggled to fit in with everyone else. At some point, Ian was going to have to wake up from this dream he assumed he was in. However, when he pinched at his skin behind the lunch bag he was holding, he was still in his own reality.

And Mickey Milkovich was there staring back at him, waiting for a response.

But instead of responding, Ian just followed Mickey down the hall. They didn’t go straight to the lunch room like the other kids did; they went out to the playground and sat against the brick wall that made up the building structure. Mickey found a shady spot by a set of stairs and walked on over as fast as he could so no one else could claim the spot. Ian followed behind him.

When the two boys were seating on the pavement, Ian started to feel out of place. Usually, he didn’t eat his lunch outside like Mickey seemed to be used to. The principal of the school usually raised awareness of litter and pollution on school grounds, and Ian was pretty obedient when it came to the principal’s rules.

When it came to Mickey, though, Ian seemed to be breaking all of the rules. Here they were, opening up their bags and munching on whatever their parents managed to pack in there for them, ignoring anything and everything the school officials said.

At one point, Ian took out a Snickers bar from his bag, but in an attempt to reach down in his bag for the salami sandwich his older sister Fiona had packed for him. It must have grabbed Mickey’s attention, because Ian heard Mickey say, “you shouldn’t eat your sweets before your meal.”

Ian started to feel confused and taken aback by the statement, so he looked up at him nervously. “I…I wasn’t –“

“Calm down, man. I was kidding.” Mickey responded with a chuckle. It was going to take a while to get used to this kid.

Ian found the sandwich and took it out, unwrapping the end where he started to bite into it, and Mickey spoke up again. “Mom’s allergic to peanuts, so we hardly have any peanut products in our house.”

After a few chews and a swallow, Ian spoke up again. “Really?”

“Yeah,” Mickey replied, reaching back into his bag after finishing up what looked to be fruit snacks in a tiny packet. “I always find a way to sneak me some, though.” When Mickey looked back up at Ian, he was waving a Snickers bar in his hand. It looked a little bigger than Ian’s, and Ian started to slap himself for asking Fiona to buy the regular-sized ones for him.

Mickey reached back into his lunch bag and grabbed another tiny packet of fruit snacks, throwing them over to Ian. “Here. Have some.”

Ian wasn’t sure what he was feeling, but his stomach started to do a little twist, and he wasn’t sure what that meant – whether it was meant for happiness because he got another snack for his lunch, confusion for why Mickey was so nice to him, or comfort for getting used to the guy in general – but he accepted it.

“Thanks.” And Ian smiled again. He wasn’t sure why, and he doubt that Mickey knew, either, but he did.

Out of nowhere, both of the boys heard a few other classmates walk by. They seemed to be whispering something about the two of them. One of them, dressed in a Captain America T-Shirt, yelled at Ian and Mickey from afar. “Hey! Lover boys!”

Ian started to get nervous as he observed the scene. The first boy – Ian identified him as Bradley – was standing in between two other friends, Fred and Patrick, and Mickey was sitting there with a defensive, angry look on his face. Ian was never the one to get in the middle of an argument, nor was he one to start an argument in the first place. So when Bradley initiated it, Ian just slid his back against the wall, hiding his face with the lunch bag.

“You having fun over there making lovey-dovey faces at each other?” Bradley called, and Fred and Patrick started to laugh along with him.

Mickey placed his lunch to the side and stood up facing them. “All three of you can suck it.”

“Suck what? Your boyfriend’s wiener?” Patrick teased, shaking his head. “I’d rather not; it seems to me that you already have that handled over there.” Mickey started to get even madder as he balled up his fists by his sides.

The trio of boys started walking over towards Ian, making the redhead even more worried. “What’s the matter, punk?” Fred asked. He created a very dark shadow in front of Ian, the sun shining brightly behind him, and Ian felt a punch or something come along sooner or later. “Too scared? You want your mommy?”

Ian couldn’t take it anymore. He took his hands and covered both of his ears while closing his eyes in the process. However, that couldn’t block out the evil laughs he heard above him.

Bradley took the first hit, snatching Ian’s hands from his eyes and kicking him in the side. “Scaredy cat!” He laughed as Fred joined him in the little chat they both created. Ian was on the pavement, trying to hold himself together and not cry, but he felt the tears fighting against him and couldn’t stop.

Lucky for him, Mickey was already shoving Bradley and Fred away, punching them both in the face and giving them bloody noses. As he continued to fight them, more kids on the playground witnessed the fight, running over and watching Mickey kick at Fred’s side.

When he was done with the troublemakers that were messing with Ian, Mickey turned towards Patrick, who was looking as white as a ghost. “You got something to say, jackass?” Mickey yelled angrily, making Patrick run away like the pussy Mickey knew he was.

Mickey was about to walk over to Ian and check if he was okay when one of the teachers came outside and witnessed the scene before her. “Mickey, what have you done?” she shouted, disappointed. “You cannot put your hands on other people!”

Mickey immediately turned around towards her. “They were hurting Ian for no reason. I was helping him.”

The blonde lady before him folded her arms in front of her chest. “You should have told one of the teachers and had them handle the situation. Violence is never the answer.”

Mickey turned away from the teacher to look down at Ian. He looked like he had been crying for a good three minutes, and some red marks appeared on Ian’s hands and on the side of his face. Some of the gravel from the ground got stuck in his hair, too, and Mickey tried everything in him to not kick Fred, Bradley, and Patrick again. They were idiots to even touch Ian like that, and they damn well knew it. However, they didn’t seem to care because all they cared about was their own amusement.

The teacher, after helping Bradley and Fred up, walked over to Ian, who was still holding onto himself and allowing more tears to fall. “Sweetie, are you okay?” she asked him, and Ian nodded, though to Mickey, it didn’t seem that way. “Come on,” she beckoned Ian, “we’re gonna take you to the nurse.” She turned her head to Mickey and then the other boys. “You three, the principal’s office.”

* * *

With Mickey’s luck, he was able to leave before the other boys did. That didn’t stop him from getting detention, though, but he could care less about whether he got detention or not. He was wondering if Ian was okay. He would never admit it aloud, but he cared for the guy.

So when Mickey was released, he found the nurse’s office. Ian was sitting on the little bed that was set up inside. Both of his eyes were closed, and some of the tears that had fallen from his face were drying on his cheeks. There was a band-aid on his left hand, and the nurse had given him an ice pack for the side of his head. A brunette woman in scrubs was sitting at a desk, talking to someone on the other line of her phone, and Mickey assumed that she was calling Ian’s parents to pick him up.

“Hey.” Mickey whispered to Ian, knocking on the door lightly. Ian slowly opened his eyes and looked towards the door. He was still upset by what happened earlier, and Mickey couldn’t blame him at all. “You okay?”

Ian shook his head. He had been really silent for the past hour, and it worried Mickey a little, if he was being really honest.

“She’s calling your mom?” Mickey asked, leaning against the door frame.

Ian nodded, adjusting the ice pack on his head. Mickey crept in and joined him on the bed, gesturing to the ice pack in an attempt to get a better look at the damage. Ian took the ice pack away, and the first thing Mickey noticed was a big, ugly scar underneath Ian’s hair strands. Mickey’s breathing only got heavier, thinking about the two jackasses that did this to him in the first place.

Mickey looked away from the scar and stared Ian in the eyes. “You don’t have to worry about them; they both have detention.” Ian should feel relieved by all of this, but in reality, he was still hurt on the inside. “They’re not gonna mess with you again. No one is. They’re gonna have to get through to me if they wanna do that.”

Mickey didn’t realize it, but he missed seeing Ian’s smile. Even when Mickey will say something off hand or whatever, Ian found some way to smirk back at him. Mickey wanted that smile to come back, or at least some indication on whether Ian was feeling a tad bit better or not.

The redhead turned towards Mickey and nodded. “Thanks.”

The nurse had finished her call and turned towards the boys, a little surprised to see Mickey sitting beside Ian. “Ian, is this your friend?” she asked with a smile on her face.

When had turned to Ian for confirmation, Mickey nodded towards Ian before the redhead turned back to the nurse. “Yeah. Yeah, he is.”


End file.
